“And I put on my shoes one foot at a time,” Shelby joked, her own thick accent mingling comfortingly with Darcy’s.
A smile flashed across her face, as she brushed her hands over her thighs before offering one to Shelby. “I’m Darcy. Kincaid. It’s – really, it’s such an honor.”
Shelby shook her hand with a firm grip. “I know who you are, honey. I requested you for my tribute album. Now, come on in.”
Darcy stepped through the threshold as Shelby waved her in, barely managing not to trip over her own feet in wonder. “Yourequestedme?”
Okay, fine. Juliet could out her, whatever. Shelby fucking Linwood hadrequestedDarcy to be on her album.
If she’d thought at any point in the last eight months that she’d been living the dream, she was wrong. This was the dream.
Shelby closed the door. “I hope you didn’t think I was going to let those execs at Copper Canyon make the final decisions for that album.”
“I…” She trailed off, entirely unsure of what the hell to say to that.What?! “Thank you. Seriously. It was such an honor. I didn’t even realize you knew who I was.”
She certainly wouldn’t expect her to.
Shelby scoffed at her. “It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been around; you keep track of new talent. Besides, that song ofyours – yours and Juliet’s – was the best earworm I’ve heard all year.”
The bomb dropped in the back of her mind, pleasure and pride singing through her.
At the very least, she supposed she couldn’t regret the drama she’d allowed herself to get sucked into with Juliet. Otherwise, apparently, she’d have never provided Shelby with her favorite tune of the damn year.
“I’m staying stationed by the door to greet everyone as they arrive tonight. But feel free to go take a self-guided tour,” Shelby encouraged her, as there was a little jingle that sounded next to her ear.
Darcy startled, realizing that there were cameras and alerts mounted on the wall to her right. Which made total sense, because this was Shelby’s house. She obviously would have a ton of security systems. And this was how she was keeping an eye on people coming and going to greet them at the door. Granted, they’d already been let in from the gate from the street, too. Double secure.
“I’ll see you at dinner. I want to pick your brain.” Shelby gave her another warm smile – surreal. Shelby wanted to pickherbrain? – before she turned her attention to the next guest coming up the walkway.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she returned, hesitating before taking another step. “Speaking of Juliet, is she here yet?”
“Mhmm,” Shelby confirmed, tilting her head. “I think she was at the bar last time I saw her.”
The bar? The bar that, apparently, existed inside of Shelby’s house?
“Ah… thanks.”
Darcywason a mission, it was true.
But she couldn’t complete her mission of seeking out Juliet without doing exactly what Shelby had encouraged, taking a“self-guided tour.” She’d been in some big freaking houses over the last several months, but this was unlike anything she’d ever seen.
She felt like she was exploring some sort of museum, traversing the home that Shelby had had custom built decades ago, engineered right into the Hollywood Hills.
It was a little dizzying to take it all in. To think about how this was how some people just lived their normal lives. She lived in an eight hundred square foot apartment with two other people, and this house had an indoor sauna.
Her ears perked up when she caught the tune of a piano, and she followed the melody through to the back of the house.
As soon as she walked into the open, airy room with the sunken center and giant panoramic view of the city, she nearly swallowed her tongue. Opulence was the only word that came to mind, as she clearly found the party.
It wasn’t a speaker system or even a vintage record player; someone was literally sitting there, playing a grand piano. Not justsomeone, she realized, but Arika Batiste.TheArika Batiste! Just as much of a legend as Shelby was. Sitting there, casually playing. Chatting with someone from the label Darcy recognized by face but didn’t remember his name.
This was also why she didn’t like to go out without Emerson and Blythe.
They were all new to this, together. Both of them would be amazed to be standing in this room, the same way Darcy was, and she wouldn’t have to feel like an idiot. Because no one else in here was daunted at all, that was clear.
Darcy was silently thanking herself for having been smart enough to have Ayla, their stylist, outfit her for the night. Even though it had said “a relaxed dinner party,” there was nothing relaxed about this.
Wearing her black high neck jumpsuit, she fit in with how chic everyone else was. Granted, she was pretty sure she was more comfortable, and she appreciated that Ayla knew that Darcy really preferred to prioritize comfort. She wasn’t in heels, and no one could tell because the long, wide cut of the pants covered her right to her feet, covering up the sneakers she had on.
